End of an Age
by Elizabeth Bower
Summary: An assassination attempt on our favorite benevolent dictator, Vetinari, has been...loosely speaking, successful. He's dying, and it's going to be awhile. And, by his bedside, sits His Grace Sir Samuel Vimes. A brief set of scenes detailing Vetinari's last days, one way they could happen. Read, enjoy, review! Rated T for anything that might happen.
1. Chapter 1: 26th of May

**End of an Age**

Note: Not only do i not own any Discworld characters or ideas, but I know this resembles a story/scene called The Dying of the Light in certain, probably important, aspects. I started this before I read that, and Vetinari's blindness in older age seems to be a perfectly reasonable condition based on how much he has had to strain his eyes doing paperwork and writing in the light of a candle, as well as in his younger years the watching for his target. I will admit that when Vetinari asks Vimes what he would do, I did in fact take Vimes' answer from the aforementioned story, and I thank the author for it immensely. Anyway, please read, enjoy, and review!

**Chapter One: 26th of May**

* * *

Vimes watched the bandaged, thin chest move slowly, as breath was taken in and breathed out. The room was silent. Sybil had insisted the guest bedroom be furnished a bit, and the bed seemed more pillowed than the frail man on it would normally like.

He'd never seen Vetinari looking so...vulnerable. The bandage's covered thin, shallow lacerations from the assassin's knives, but the worst injury was undeniably to his leg. Like the gonne, the attacker's weapon had missed his torso because the man had stood up. But it would still, ultimately, kill him.

Pale blue eyes opened. It was the same blue eyes that the man had stared at Vimes with for nearly thirty-five years. But no, the Patrician tensed suddenly. Blind eyes glanced reflexively around before closing, searching for breathing in the darkness of the world. Vimes waited. Vetinari knew his breathing, he was sure of that. But...he'd been awake probably for quite some time, most likely drifting on dark thoughts. Vimes knew Vetinari didn't sleep often, even now.

"Vimes..."

The Patrician's voice was weak and and cracked. His coal-black hair had long lines of gray, and he was far paler than normal. The tall, frail-looking man blindly sat up, using Vimes as a steadying force. Only Vimes, Sybil, Drumknott, and Dr. Lawn knew of the man's lack of sight. The man had his own sort of arrogance, Vimes knew that.

When the most powerful man on the Disc toppled forwards, Vimes caught him, and felt the man shudder in pain and injured pride.

"Sir?" Vimes asked softly, biting his lip.

Vetinari looked helpless and weak now, but those two blue eyes were the same as ever. But they were softer now, almost warm. But the blue orbs closed as Vetinari let Vimes shift him back down, shaking softly in what Vimes guessed was extreme pain.

"I'm dying. That's what Lawn told you." Vetinari whispered quietly, voice a bit distant. And Vimes thought he heard a note of fear in the man's voice, though it was hidden quickly out of practice. Vimes couldn't blame him. Lawn had said it would be a slow death. The bleeding would starve his heart of blood until he died, and he would spasm randomly and painfully until the end.

"Yes sir. Told me it would hurt like the seven hells." Vimes replied, letting an inkling of concern and pain into his voice. It already showed on his face. But Vetinari, once so observant he could catalog a twitch, couldn't see that anymore. It had been nearly eight years since his sight had gone altogether, and ten since it had begun to blur and distort.

Vimes found his hand instinctively grasping his master's, trying to do what he could. Vetinari didn't flinch away, as Vimes had thought he would. He merely sighed and clasped the other man's calloused hand weakly.

"Where am I, Vimes? Is it your house?" he asked quietly, swallowing before he began to cough. Vimes set the ice-water Sybil had insisted on in the man's outstretched hand, and before replying let him drink and set it down.

"Yes, Sir. Before you collapsed, you asked to be brought here. Sir...are you alright?"

It was a stupid question, but it made the Patrician smile at least. It was weak and sad, but a smile nonetheless.

"Better than I could be, Sam." he murmured, closing his eyes. He opened them again, seemingly alert before relaxing and flicking them in the direction of a large wardrobe.

"If he were here, Sam, what do you think he'd say?" Vetinari whispered. Vimes sighed. His son was in Uberwald for a convention of some sort...one of his friends from school had something over there. Sudden;y, he realized that in a very real way, when the clacks message reached his son, he'd be alone in the world, and that Vetinari had always been there for his godson. Would Young Sam know what to do?

"Sir...he's probably going to cry no matter what. As it is...if he were here, he'd hide and cry, so I wouldn't see and so that you wouldn't see." Sam Senior said softly.

Vimes the Elder settled again, and when Vetinari's blind fumbling fingers found his hand, he grasped them reassuringly.

"Vimes...I'm afraid." Vetinari whispered, his lips trembling a bit as his eyes closed, as if expecting some callous remark from his right-hand that he would take without fighting.

Vimes merely smiled, his own lips trembling. "How long have we known each other, Havelock?" he offered, and at the others raised eyebrow, sighed. "You called me Sam earlier. Figured I'd reciprocate the trust, sir." he added, shrugging.

"No...it's fine, Sam. just...unexpected." Vetinari murmured, closing his eyes again as he seemed to try and think a bit more again. "Probably around...35 years now, Sam. Why?" he asked, waving a dismissive hand and then clenching it with a flinch. It had been a natural gesture, but he hadn't meant it to be so...casual. Not just because he was showing Vimes how he was actually feeling, but because Vimes was, and had been, his friend. He didn't deserve such a stupid, meaningless gesture now.

"Seems longer. S- Havelock, in all that time, we haven't ever called the other by their first name. And yet we both felt comfortable with each other...I would consider you a friend, sir." Vimes said, grasping the blue-veined, shaking hand. Vetinari's eyes stayed closed.

"Drumknott came in earlier. He'll be back tomorrow with papers for you." Vimes offered almost desperately, and realized that the hand had clenched about his own in pain. He cursed, and went to shout for the doctor when Vetinari's hand relaxed. In fear, Vimes turned to his employer, but he was indeed still breathing.

"No Vimes..." he breathed, voice barely audible. "I can withstand some pain." he murmured. _But you're still afraid to die, sir._ Vimes thought sadly.

"If it were you, Vimes, and I were here till _your_ last...what would you ask me?" Vetinari breathed, obviously still trying to catch his breath from the spasm. His blind eyes seemed to be searching the room for an answer, anywhere but where Vimes was sitting beside him. And Vimes, after ensuring they were alone, answered.

"Well Sir...ask me in two days time. Gives you a reason to hold on, since I just know you're burning with the desire to find out." he answered. Vetinari's thin smile faltered as another spasm wracked his system, shorter but obviously more painful than the first.

Vimes tightened his grip as the Patrician did the same. As the older, thinner man started to shake, Vimes swallowed and stayed by his side. Vetinari sat there, and Vimes could tell he was getting ready to ask something by the yawning, but comfortable silence that heralded the pair of them contemplating questions and answers.

"Sir?" he prompted automatically, and held back a smile as the patrician gave him a Look and sighed weakly.

"Vimes...could I see you? Once a day, until I die?" he asked, so quiet and polite Vimes barely heard him.

"Sir...I couldn't care less."

Vetinari smiled thinly. "Now, Vimes? I really haven't seen you for ten years."

"Let me shift a bit."

Vimes did so quickly, edging towards the the head of the bed. He slipped into the Patrician's reach, and watched the hands tentatively lift and then pause an inch from his face.

"The glasses, Vimes. I need them off." he whispered, and Vimes removed the framed glass lenses and set them by the ice-water on the bedside table. Vetinari merely closed his eyes, and then started to feel out the face of his only close friend.

"You never have smiled much, have you Sam?" Vetinari whispered, obviously more to himself than to Vimes. Vimes twitched a smile before the hands moved on, gliding over the copper's forehead and brows, his eyes and nose. And then back down to his chin.

"You've grown a beard, Sam? How strange...always thought you the clean-shaven sort."

"Shortly after you lost your sight, Sir. Didn't shave for a week or two, and Sybil liked it." Vimes replied to the very quiet question in the man's voice. The Patrician nodded quietly, then continued on. Vimes flinched when the cool fingers glided over his neck, too easily reminding him of knives or other cold metal objects. Obligingly, and without comment, they moved back up to his ears and hair.

Vetinari leaned back finally, his breath faster thane earlier, though just as shallow. He seemed in a lot of pain, and his nails were digging into the sheets and pillows. Not many would have noticed it, Vimes fancied.

"Vimes?"

"Sir?"

"What color is your hair now? White? It was only graying last I saw."

"Salt-and-pepper sir." After a moment, Sam confided further. "A bit less of it though. I'm sure the Hair-Pulling Murderer five years back something to do with the speed though." he said hastily. Vetinari seemed amused by this minor point of sore pride, but his next words cut off in a choke as another spasm made him twitch, and Vimes took the hand so that the nails stopped digging into the skin of the Patrician's palm.

Shouting for the doctor, he told Lawn to hold the man's hand and then escaped the room. Death hung over the house like a cloud. Behind Young Sam's door, silence reigned, as it should.

It seemed to Vimes, as he slowly walked up the stairs to his room, strange that he would be Vetinari's comfort and companion into the end, the 'final sleep,' as Visit called it*. And while once, perhaps, the thought would have angered or baffled him, now he merely felt saddened that he had to do it. And yet he was glad it was him who Vetinari respected or liked enough to trust his last days and hours to.

When he stepped into his own room, he found his wife weeping.

Ok, maybe it wasn't the right word...crying harshly didn't fit either, but it worked best. Unless you could picture a mountain of iron crumbling because of some rain.

Funny that...He hadn't thought how the loss of Vetinari would affect his wife. He probably should have...Vetinari's Terrier or not, he knew that he wasn't half as astute mentally as the man was even as a boy Young Sam's age. _Vetinari_ had probably thought how it would affect Sybil, and _he_ was _dying!_

* * *

*Visit meant well, everyone knew that, but...well, after so many years, Vimes still didn't have the heart to tell the man that no one in their right mind was as vehement about eternal souls as he was. Then again, the man was now happily married to a lovely lady from Uberwald who seemed happy to debate religion with him all day, when they weren't busy making children**. Who was Vimes to argue sanity?

**They now had, he believed,a total of eight. Three sets of twins, and two sons which were born first. All the rest, for the record, were girls, and Visit seemed a happy and good father, though Vimes knew his daughters were going to be as cynical as Angua in only four more years.

* * *

Still, being as good a husband as he could manage to be, he slipped up beside her, draped an arm over her shoulder, and squeezed until her tears slowed a bit.

"He...the city...Sam...the city's never going to work right again! Not without the pair of you to work it together!" she whispered, clinging to him and crying softly. Vimes could only smile weakly and kiss her cheek.

"You're right my love...Moist will do his best, I know, but Vetinari...he's the best ruler this city ever had, and a better one than it has ever deserved. He's requested I stay with him to the end, and I plan to be. I just need some sleep." he murmured.

Sybil nodded. it was still only afternoon...Carrot could run things, if he tried.

He leaned back, and felt her at his back for a bit before she stood and left, leaving him in the darkness of sleep alone. But the shadows were not so welcome as he had thought they were...visions of the city without Vetinari there to rule it ran rampant through his dreams.

* * *

Vetinari woke some hours later...it could only be nighttime, based on the silence that covered the house. That, or the it was the calmest afternoon he'd ever heard at the Ramkin estate.

"Sir?" came the hesitant, slightly worried voice of Vimes. The light wasn't on, then...Vimes would have noted the jerk of his bad leg, and the tensing of muscles.

"The light's not on, Sam...the breathing?"

Vimes smiled weakly, and inserted into his voice to try and make it easier for Vetinari. "Yes sir. I am your terrier after all, aren't I? Sleep well?" he asked, his voice lightly smiling at the first part, and sounding only slightly concerned for the latter.

"Well enough, Sam. And yourself? Sybil was in earlier to sit beside me."

Most of their conversations were done in silence. Even now, his silence implied that she'd told him they were both worried for him, scared for him...he had no doubts that what she said was true, but he also knew Vimes felt something else too.

It could be argued Vetinari hadn't been so tender with anyone since he was a teenager, his early twenties certainly. It could be said that, in fact, he was tricking Vimes. But the latter was incorrect. After nearly 40 years of loyalty to the law and, after a time, loyalty to Vetinari himself on principle, Vimes deserved to know how Vetinari often regarded his...he was hesitant to sue the term people called Vimes, which was his terrier, but it fit. Either way, Vimes deserved to know after so long.

"I've slept better, my Lord."

The pair sat in comfortable silence, enjoying the company of the other as much as they could.


	2. Chapter 2: 27th of May

Chapter 2: 27th of May

**Author's Note: I realize that Vetinari seems a bit too open. This is intentional. Drumknott is his employee, Vimes is now his only real friend, so I have made him open up a bit with him. If he seems too open for you, I'm sorry, but it's how I'm writing him in this. Also, the song that Vetinari is humming when Vimes comes back in that evening is 'Sometimes When We Touch.' I called it 'I Want to Hold You Until I Die' for the Discworld purpose, but I find that in varying parts it describes their relationship, ignoring the bits about holding the other romantically. Imagine best friends rather than lovers. Credit to Dan Hill, who performed my favorite version of the song, hence why Hill Dan wrote it on the Disc, and to him for writing the song to begin with (yes, I give credit for performances too). Great song there, you should all listen to/see it. That said, read and review? Please?**

* * *

Dawn light streamed in through the window. Vimes wasn't sure at what point Vetinari drifted into dark dreams, but he did know that he'd had to wake the man several times. The blood-loss was getting to him, it had to be. He mumbled in his sleep now, just like he had after the first poisoning.

"Sir?"

Vimes gently tried to nudge the man's shoulder, tentative and soft, so there was no mistaking it for the hand of friend, versus the hand of foe. Even so, Vetinari jerked awake, as if from some dark dream.

It took the man a moment to get his bearings, and in the gray light of dawn, Vimes could see the flicker of fear on the man's face. But it was nothing more than a flicker, and quickly Vetinari seemed to calm, though he remained pale.

"Vimes?"

His voice was hoarse and faint, but still iron-strong at the same time.

"Sir?" Vimes replied automatically, but it was softer than his usual short reply. He was watching the blind eyes, looking around as if they could see. He'd heard of blind composers who, before they died, were given their sight back. Perhaps Vetinari would be blessed by some passing god and his sight would be given back for a day.

"Ah...Morning already?" Vetinari said pleasantly, though quietly. He'd screamed once in the night, Vimes remembered absently. _Screamed himself hoarse...within only a few seconds. I don't want to know what would make this man scream._

"Barely, sir. Sun just rose." Vimes replied, handing Vetinari the ice water when he indicated it. His fingers were trembling, though Vimes guessed this was because he was losing his strength. The bedclothes would have to be changed...he could see the leakage from the bandages already.

"Ah. Hence why you woke me? Before the doctor has woken?" Vetinari said quietly, folding his hands and placing them, out of habit, behind his head. It looked painful, and Vimes watched as fresh blood soaked the bandages on his chest, but the man didn't even flinch.

"If you wish, sir. I just know that you don't sleep much, and would probably prefer to be sarcastic and awake to Lawn when he gets here," Vimes replied, smiling a little in true happiness. Despite all, Vetinari still managed that look that said everything was fine, he had it under control. Nothing was wrong. Obviously his mind was still quite intact then. Vimes worried about the man's dignity in his last few hours.

"Ah yes. You think that I want to present a front that in fact says that I'm the same tyrant who would barely sleep on a good night, and merely lays himself down for a couple hours rest, mostly so that he can change his clothes and shave? Dear me, Vimes. I'm beginning to think I showed you too much in those 35 years," Vetinari replied with genuinely contrived innocence. Which merely got him an amused snort from Vimes.

"Right sir. Whatever you want to believe," Vimes replied, shrugging and then leaning back. He fancied that Vetinari was searching for a distraction, and Vimes could distract the man's mind when he wished to. Just had to pull the right levers, say the right things.

Like dropping sand into a clock. It stopped the processes, and they had to be readjusted afterward.

"Sir, I think you have contaminated my mind," Vimes said flatly, but there a smile on his face. Vetinari

opened his eyes briefly in response, furrowing his brow in confusion and curiosity. But he didn't bother keeping his eyes open, instead letting them drift shut.

"And how would that be, Vimes?"

"When I start thinking of how to distract you, I start using well thought-out metaphors!" Vimes replied, and he began to laugh softly, trying not to be disturbing to the Patrician, who had held back a grin, but not the chuckle that followed behind it. When he was done with his very quiet laughing, Vetinari let the smile grace his features, an unsure little turning up of his lips that made it look like he wasn't sure he should smile, but was going to anyway.

"Dear Vimes...Whatever happens when I die, if I don't end up coming back as a zombie or some other undead, than I will miss you terribly. No Vimes for me to torment, or to torment me? Or for me to trust with my emotions and body? The afterlife will be a boring and unsavory place without you...even if you cause as many problems as you solve," Vetinari said quietly, his smile softening as he shook his head in disbelief of what he was saying.

"Anyone else and my speech would still be guarded, even after all this time...but with you, Vimes, I can be myself, even if only while I am dying."

Vimes shook his head, a scowl covering his features rather suddenly. "No, Sir. You always could have shown me after that whole damned thing with Koom Valley. Or the football game. Why you chose to do it after Laurence's appearance with Temeraire I don't know, but we had been through some real tough things before that, and that was comparatively easy!"

Vetinari looked at him, blind eyes curious as well as now deeply annoyed. Vimes realized that he had just snapped at Vetinari, and despite the fact they were good friends now...well, you just didn't snap at Vetinari.

The tall, thin man leaned back tiredly, sighing a bit as he thought. "Vimes...I just never thought it was the right time. We'd been friends, without realizing it fully, for many years by the time of Laurence, you're correct, but...something about it marked an end to our usual bickering, we felt truly comfortable with each other after the events with Laurence. It is one of the few things I cannot quite explain, even to myself. I couldn't be open with you, however, until after that happened. That's all the answer I can give," Vetinari said quietly, and Vimes realized he'd slid into being Havelock, the old man who just wanted his oldest friend by his side as he lay dying, the old man who was scared to slip away from his beloved city, who he had served with all his heart for more than sixty years now.

"Havelock...I didn't mean it that way. I meant that...oh damn, why do you have to practically read my mind all the time? It's infuriating," Vimes scowled, grunting angrily about Vetinari's tendency to know what he was thinking. "What I meant was that you seemed to...you turned my world upside down, damn you. When you let me see the strands of gray, the wrinkles around the eyes...when you let me know that your sight was failing you. You brought walls of defense I had constructed over years of dealing with you down by being a human, inside. By showing me just how much you cared for not only the city, but me as well, as a friend and the only man who could understand your...devotion. And yet it took you _years_ to tell me any of that!" Vimes snapped out, standing angrily to begin to pace the room. He didn't want to punch a dying man. But half-way up, a cool hand gripped his wrist, and Sam looked down angrily.

Vetinari wasn't facing him, not that it mattered much now though. But he looked...pained, or possibly merely deeply annoyed. Or maybe hurt. Vimes still didn't know the man's facial expressions well enough to always know what he thought.

"Sam...that was a touch harsh, don't you think?" Vetinari murmured softly, turning to look at him a little, for Vimes' comfort. Sam glared at him, but Vetinari silently awaited his answer. With a grunt, Vimes sat again, and started to think a bit.

"No, sir. You've tricked, manipulated, persuaded, and generally used me to do so much, that made me hate you for a long time. Tricking me into going to Klatch? I was furious with you for ages. Uberwald I am _still_ not over. Sir, as much as I am your friend, you have done a lot of things to me, and not all of it I can forgive."

Vetinari closed his eyes slowly, looking pained suddenly, and Vimes felt the strong fingers close about his wrist in pain, though he noted that Vetinari took this spasm with more grace than the last few. He seemed to either have started to get used to the pain, or this one wasn't as painful.

When the blue eyes opened, they looked sadder than earlier. "Sam...I am sorry for those times, but...I needed you, and if I told you that, you wouldn't do it. If I gave you a speech about the city, you'd have told me that this city wasn't worth risking your life...that I had no right to ask you to risk your life for her," Vetinari murmured, and Vimes grunted, standing as the man's grip loosened. "I am sorry for any anger you still have over the occurrences, but...I can only say that even now I would do exactly as I did. There is no use in me lying to you now, Sam."

"I know, that's what makes it worse...when you become painfully honest, it isn't a metaphor," Vimes growled, striking a match on the wall and lighting a cigar.

Vetinari wrinkled his nose slightly, and Vimes chuckled at the movement. "Sam, you know I don't like you smoking around me," Vetinari said in a deadpan voice. Sam shrugged, and then chuckled.

"Don't care right now, Sir. It's that or I storm out of here, and I promised to stay as much as I could."

Vetinari shook his head, and slowly rolled to his side, turning his back on Vimes. His eyes closed gently, and he let out a shuddering breath before he sighed.

"Vimes? Tell the doctor to let me be...Wake me up later, I'm feeling too tired to deal with anyone messing with my bandages," he murmured, and Vimes nodded before replying with his usual 'sir.' Vetinari nodded once, weakly, and then went practically limp as he slid almost immediately into sleep.

Vimes had seen Vetinari limping through his house earlier, from the stairs. He'd asked Wilikins politely for directions to a bathroom, and the butler had politely guided the Patrician, acting as support when the Patrician nearly collapsed. But Vetinari had not heard Vimes on the stairs, smoking his cigar. Which was just as well.

Vimes had left the room shortly after Vetinari had fallen asleep, deciding to walk down to Treacle Mine Road and see if anything required his attention. Carrot and Angua had practically shoved him outside, Carrot suggesting quietly that it wasn't right for Vimes to be here if Vetinari wanted him.

Vimes shook his head, motioning Willikins over to his side. The old butler came, indicating with his eyebrows his curiosity. Vimes nodded to himself. He wasn't sure who would die first, him or the butler. He supposed it didn't matter, but maybe it meant something to him. It would mean a lot to Sybil.

"Did His Lordship look...alright, Willikins? Not too badly shaken?" Vimes asked, watching the hallway down which Vetinari had disappeared with eyes like a hawk's. He wanted to be prepared to catch the man if another spasm took him as he limped back to his bed.

Willikins looked Vimes over critically for a moment, as if reevaluating. "He looked better than yesterday afternoon, Sir Samuel, however...I have no doubt that he will die within the week. I do not doubt the word of Lawn's son," the butler said, rather defensively Vimes thought. Then again, he was telling his employer that his false hope wasn't worth the effort, that it would end in Vimes being hurt more deeply. And Vimes knew he was right, but...it seemed stupid that blood-loss would kill Vetinari, rather than poisons or a blade.

Vimes sighed, smiling grimly. "Yeah, I know that. Roger is a good boy...His father taught him pretty well." It made Vimes' heart ache to think about Mossy Lawn's grave, with it's forlorn little bell which he and the Watch kept polished. He'd been laid to rest in Small Gods, beside Ned Coates and John Keel. He'd said that's where he'd wanted to be buried...beside the men who shouldn't have died.

Vimes wondered where Vetinari would be buried...perhaps there as well? Vimes knew that's where he would be laid to rest, as close to Mossy as he could be, next to Ned and Sergeant Keel. Men who shouldn't have died...but did anyway.

Wilikins looked his employer over, and stood, leaving him to his thoughts. It didn't take a genius to see that Sir Samuel was thinking deeply, and the glaze in his eyes showed the thoughts of the Glorious 25th, and Willikins had no wish to interrupt his thoughts. However, seeing the door to the Patrician's room close, he sighed, and coughed politely.

"Sir Samuel, I believe that His Lordship has made it back to his room," he said quietly, and watched the Commander's expression clear and then grow stormy.

Vimes nodded once, his dark scowl covering his face as he loped over to the door, barging in without knocking to find Vetinari trying to bend back down, and finding it too painful.

In moments his anger fled, replaced with something that wasn't quite pity, but neither was it guilt.

Vimes moved to his master's side, giving the man a hand to hold while he weakly lay back down. His bandages had been changed, Vimes noted, though they were already bloodstained. Vetinari's face was even more pale than usual, and he trembled now in pain. Or perhaps it was a chill...He felt warmer than usual.

"Sir, are you feeling alright?" Sam asked, concern just barely inching into his voice. Vetinari went still for a moment, as if assessing the damage telling him would cause, before he shrugged delicately.

"I've felt far better, Vimes."

Vimes grunted, muttering something about the stubbornness of politician's, before he resumed his place on the bed, kicking his boots off his feet and leaning back on the foot of the bed, feet pressed against Vetinari's back. Vetinari grunted something about him smoking, but soon they were drifting into complete silence, though Vimes could see the occasional blinking of the blue eyes.

It was midnight, and after a few more halfhearted conversations and a pair of hard spasms, Vimes reentered the silent room. Something felt extremely off, and moving in his bathrobe and slippers, for comfort's sake, he realized Vetinari hadn't heard him enter. But the strangeness in the room was grating on his nerves, and his lack of ability to identify it was even worse.

Except, when he did realize it, he felt at once both mystified, and uneasy. There was a gentle humming coming from the bed, shrouded in shadow, and Vimes realized it was Vetinari humming, just loud enough to be heard at all, and what made it more unnerving was the fact it was a song Vimes and Sybil had given him the sheet music to read after his blindness. He had said he'd enjoy the challenge of reading it, since running his fingers and mentally imagining the music in his head as an image and as the music itself seemed like a worthy challenge.

Vimes relaxed, slowly. Vetinari seemed to be enjoying himself, and Vimes had to admit, he was a decent tenor, with an excellent sense of rhythm and pitch. What else did he expect, though?

"You know sir, you should try your hand at singing...wouldn't be half-bad, if you could remember the lyrics," Vimes said aloud, and grinned at the immediate, annoyed silence that followed his words. He could practically feel Vetinari's glare on his chest, and felt his heartbeat quicken. There was something about annoying Vetinari, even as his friend, that made your heart flutter and your mind try to hide from his gazes.

"Vimes...have I ever told you that you can be a real bastard when you want to be?" Vetinari intoned, the annoyance filtering through anyway. Vimes grinned more, from the doorway, and shut the door with an amused snort.

"I did wonder what it would take to make you say it. Apparently, all I had to do was catch you humming."

Vetinari, to his credit, didn't bother to comment. He didn't deny it either, which was good. Vimes was already too amused, and Vetinari knew better than to let Vimes get under his skin. Vimes was trying to take his mind off his body, which ached greatly.

Vetinari let himself get away with a calm smile, and motioned Vimes to sit. He hadn't minded being left alone for a few hours while Sam got some sleep, and tried to comfort his wife. The gods only knew how much the poor woman needed it, despite how strong she tried to be around him.

"Sam, do you remember the name of the song?" Vetinari asked briefly, and heard Sam snort in what he guessed was annoyance.

"I think it's called 'I Want to Hold You Until I Die,' by Dan , right?" Vimes grunted, though he felt a bit unsure about how this conversation was going along. He had never been very sure of Vetinari's romantic leanings, and he'd heard more than one of the less 'straight' men admit that he was extremely appealing.

Vetinari gave him one of those annoyingly calm, sad smiles. "Good job Commander. You and Sybil gave it to me as a birthday present a few years back, I believe. I merely enjoyed the tune."

"Yeah, _right_. We've known each other well for too long, Vetinari. Real answer, now, or I'll ensure you are very much alone when you die."

There was a quiet, uneasy pause, mostly on Vetinari's part.

"You promised, Sam."

"And? Inform me why that would make any difference now?"

There was another pregnant pause, more uneasy, or perhaps more upset, from both sides.

"Ignoring the obviously romantic words of the song...I feel it rather describes our relationship...does it not?"

Vimes snarled angrily, and he watched Vetinari move subtly away from him. With a sigh, Vimes tried to regain control of his temper. Vetinari was unarmed, and besides, a dying man has no need to lie. Conceal, maybe. Lie? No reason. Besides, Vetinari seldom actually lied to him, usually only wording things so that Vimes didn't understand.

Vimes growled softly, and then snorted.

"Explain that one to me? The name implies lots of romance, I believe."

Vetinari smiled weakly, shaking his head in amusement. "You just don't want to admit how close we really are, do you?"

"No, sir. I'll admit it to myself when you're gone."

Vetinari sighed, and then took a deep breath, sounding thoughtful when he spoke.

"In the last verse, Vimes, there is a line saying ' _I've watched while love commands you,  
And I've watched love pass you by,_' which is rather similar to how you have often, of late, described my relationship with the city and Lady Margolotta. Do you see how some of the other lines also can offer up their services to describe our relationship, after using that as an example?" Vetinari asked softly, his voice fluctuating in pitch as he very quietly sang the line, as if it helped him remember. Vimes smiled faintly.

"Pretty good tenor there, Havelock...you sure you never sang?" At Vetinari's glare, Vimes sighed, and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Alright, yes. I can see it, since you gave me an example! Gods, sometimes you're as bad as Carrot!"

"So Sam, what's another line or two you can think of that describes our relationship?"

Vimes glared at Vetinari, but he knew the song, and Vetinari knew that. Sam mumbled something before sighing heavily. He cleared his throat, feeling oddly uneasy about Havelock hearing him sing.

"'_And who am I to judge you, On what you say or do? I'm only just beginning to see the real you_?' I mean...that seems to sum up my end, certainly..." he grunted, and watched Vetinari's mouth move from a straight line to a soft, amused smile, before the man began to chuckle dryly. As happy as he was to have made a dying man smile, Vimes wanted to know what he'd done.

"Alright, what made that so funny?" he grunted.

Vetinari stopped chuckling after a moment, seemingly enjoying this. "I may be a decent tenor, Vimes, but you are a rather good baritone...maybe we should have started a choir at some point."

Vimes chuckled, and shook his head.

And so the night passed, until the first light of dawn brought with it a worried doctor, and another, painful, spasm.

* * *

**I realize that Vetinari is almost out of character (alright he is out of character). I intentionally did this, as I said above. I don't want this whole story to be tragic, so I'm putting in a few less-than-in-character things. Vetinari and Vimes singing is one of them, as are the bits where they are arguing about various things, bickering for the heck of it.**

**Also, from now on I am putting the day I posted something up at the bottom of the chapter. Just because.  
**

**September 3, 2012.  
**


	3. Chapter 3: 28th of May

**End of an Age**

**Chapter 3: 29th of May**

Morning came, slow and warm. The sun's warmth radiated through the window. Vimes had insisted it stay shut and the curtains stay drawn, but the room was still warmer.

Speaking of which...

Vetinari instinctively glanced at where he knew Vimes' chair was in the room, where quiet snores were emanating from. A long time ago he'd ignored this man entirely, but maybe because of Fate, or maybe by the work of the Lady, Vetinari had found in Vimes, by seemingly pure chance, the rarest and truest of friends.

He felt his eyes soften, even without being able to see Vimes. He could remember, and place the image over a chair. He knew what this chair looked like, and even if his mental picture was out-of-date, the basics of Vimes' appearance hadn't changed much for years. More wrinkles, yes, less hair and maybe a bit different color, but not those eyes, and that profile...

How wrong that sounded, now. But he was married to his city, and as unfaithful a lover as she was, she had kept him for his entire life. And he didn't regret that, even at times when a beautiful diplomat had made him smile inside, in appreciation but never in lust. The same, he knew, went for Vimes. Ankh-Morpork was a shared lover for them, an interest neither could disobey or go against.

The warm room radiated his thoughts back to him, even though his ears were on the lookout for Vimes' waking. His mind turned down many tracks as he waited, unwilling to interrupt his friend's sleep. Vimes had only rested a few hours at a time, and he'd been on a case before this. He, Vetinari, had plenty of time to rest. So he wanted to savor each warm moment, each sound, every touch and scent.

He took a deep, shuddering breath, hand touching the fresh bandages. Lawn's son had done well, but everyone of any import in the house knew that he was dying. Their Patrician, their Vetinari, friend to their mistress and...well, something very close for their master...was dying. Willikins had come during the night to chat, and Vetinari knew that he and Vimes weren't the only two not long for this world.

Oh yes..._That_ topic...

As stupid as it was, as uncharacteristic, Vetinari had tried to insist that Sam would be here awhile, in his more eloquent and subtle ways. Sam had laughed his assurances away, though shakily.

Both of them knew Sam's heart was failing. His lungs too. Between the smoking and the cholesterol of his life, not to mention the days on end of no sleep and other things that happened to dedicated Watchmen, Vimes was dying too. But even more slowly, and even more painfully than Vetinari was going now. And he knew it.

Now, the pair of them were waiting for the heart-attack or complete failure of Sam's heart or lungs...or both.

It saddened him to think that his dearest friend, a father and husband, would leave all that he loved very soon. Vimes was too old now, too weak. Yes, he managed to put up a brave, strong face for everyone else, but more than once recently it had been him, Vetinari, helping the Commander into the Office, or into a chair when his legs suddenly gave out beneath him. His heart was weak, now. It was willpower and pure, unadulterated bravery that kept Vimes standing, it seemed. And maybe, just maybe, a hint of loyalty as well. Vimes refused to leave his post, even when Lord Rust reminded everyone how much Vimes claimed to hate it.

Vetinari chuckled silently, catching his breath and covering his smile with one hand out of habit. They were old now. They had lived their lives. It was time for younger men, stronger men, to take over where they had left off. Even Captain Carrot was getting a bit old now, but Moist...

"Moist's a good kid, but a little old too, Havelock."

Vetinari raised his eyebrows in surprise. He hadn't heard the shift in position, or the change in breathing.

"You've been talking these last...ten, fifteen minutes, Havelock. Sir, you're completely correct. We are both going to die, soon. And I am not dying until after you do, and even then, not for a few months. Couldn't do that to Young Sam. Or Sybil."

Vetinari sighed, sitting up slowly and leaning back.

"Commander...Sam, I asked you the day I was brought here what you would do, if you were in my position. You promised to tell me today."

Sam sighed, and sat beside his master, his Patrician...his friend. One hand, calloused and weather-beaten, settled surprisingly gently on the more frail-looking man's shoulder, and he smiled and then chuckled sadly.

"I hate to admit it Havelock, I really do, but...I'd ask you to complete the contract the Assassin's have on me. I'd pay you for it, out of my own funds. I'd have you kill me, end it quickly, and be here with me until my last. But I wouldn't be at home. I'd be at the Palace, away from Sybil, away from Young Sam. I wouldn't have lasted three days, not like this. I hate to sound like Rust, but there's no honor in this death, no glory...no satisfaction, no...there's nothing but pain, Havelock, at the end of this tunnel. I'd rather end it quicker, and save my wife and son the trouble. And you, my Lord."

Vetinari was silent a long time, but hesitantly, he lay his hand on Sam's shoulder, their arms forming an awkward, but workable, circle. He smiled ever so slightly.

"I think Lord Rust would have paid good money for that show of trust, Sam. And I thank you that you would trust me so completely. If it is your heart that gets you, as we both know it most likely will, I...I have one last favor I can grant you, one last gift. After I die, in my desk, there's a drawer, third down from the left. Open it. In it is a poison kit. There are two vials on top, and a syringe inside. Keep them with you at all times, somewhere safe. If your death is slow in coming, as mine is, then inject first the blue liquid into your arm. Then, after a few minutes, when you're getting dizzy and tired...inject the red. It will be quick and painless."

Vetinari sighed and smiled. "I can't believe I just told you how to kill yourself...with my own kit, too."

"Yeah, well, it's what I'd want," Vimes replied softly, gripping the shoulder under his fingers gently. He felt a similar squeeze on his left, and nodded gently.

"Vimes...Leonard once told me, before he died, a phrase he read somewhere in old texts. Long before he died, I should say. And I would repeat it to you, if only I were not so afraid I might have gotten it wrong," Vetinari began slowly, flinching as his chest felt crushed briefly.

"Sir, with your memory for detail, I don't think you have. And besides, even if you do, I might know it," Vimes replied, curious now as he released Vetinari to let him lie back again. The man's breaths were shallow and quick, and his face was etched here and there with pain.

"I was very touched, at the time. He said..."

Vetinari paused and shook his head.

"No, not today. Perhaps tomorrow. When I feel the end is very near, Sam, then I will tell you."

Sam sighed, and grumbled something about annoying politicians before he grunted and stuck his head out the door, requesting politely for something to eat. He hadn't eaten since breakfast yesterday...even Vetinari was getting hungry with the lack of food.

After they had eaten, the comfortable silence returned. Vetinari had the feeling Vimes wanted to say something, which had put a slight tension into the air, but his private world of shadow was rather silent despite this.

He heard Vimes shift, heralding a conversation, and he shifted to sit up slowly.

"Havelock..."

He sounded hesitant, and Vetinari again cursed his lack of sight, unable to see the expression on Vimes' face.

"Yes Sam?"

There was a pause, deep and full and thoughtful, before Samuel Vimes spoke.

"Havelock...why would you want to know what I'd do in this situation?"

Vetinari smiled faintly, lips just twitching.

"Because you are my friend, Sam, and there are somethings I just have to know before leave this world. Stupid as they are sometimes."

He could hear Vimes' clothes moving as he, presumably, nodded.

"Well...is it alright, Sir, if I ask a personal question, then?"

Vetinari caught the slip. Vimes was nervous, unnerved. Perhaps even afraid. This puzzled the Patrician, and gave him pause. What could Vimes want to ask that would make him so...upset? Or was he afraid of hurting his feelings, and therefore was uneasy because it might hurt his friend?

"A dying man has few secrets that can't be told, Vimes," he replied, curious now even if he was light-headed.

He heard Sam gulp. "Right. S- Havelock...when you were poisoned that second time, from the dart that didn't hit me..." he began, and paused at the small frown on the Patrician's face. He looked strangely calm, and even more...well, thoughtful and curious were all Vimes could think of.

_You need a dictionary for your face...but how many entries for each expression, I wonder?_ Vimes thought tiredly, then pressed on before he could change his mind.

"Sir, I heard some nasty things from my bed. Like...thoughts you'd never vocalized. Sometimes, you seemed to convulse shortly, seemingly from pain..." he murmured, voice petering out as those cool blue eyes bore into him. Even now, many of their conversations could be relayed in silence.

"Vimes...my parents died when I was relatively young. From the time I was eight, my aunt was raising me. As soon as possible I was enrolled in the Guild of Assassins. My childhood, as you can guess, left a large amount of affection wanting. You may have surmised this already. My time at the Guild was-"

"Less than pleasant, Vetinari. As I can testify to."

Vimes stood abruptly, hand going for a sword that wasn't there.

The woman was dressed in Assassin's black, but Vimes knew her from somewhere...some person he sometimes saw at the Guild, or maybe at a Guild faction of some kind...

"Ah, Elizabeth. I had...I had wondered when you would...show," Vetinari murmured, sitting up weakly. The woman looked like she'd been crying. Her own emerald green eyes were bloodshot, and there was a softness there Vimes had never expected to see in them.

Ah, yes. Elizabeth D'Angelo, another noble who seemingly wanted nothing to do with her title, and was the teacher of Blade Throwing and Camouflage at the Guild of Assassins, and a member of the Teacher's Guild.

Vimes recalled that she was just behind Sybil in wealth, but like her Patrician and her fellow Duchess, Lady D'Angelo wore the Assassin's uniform in workman's cloth. It was comfortable-looking, and nice material, but not silk or any other expensive cloth.

Vimes watched her eyes glaze again as she sat on the edge of Vetinari's bed, and watched them interact. He'd never seen Vetinari look so understanding or tender with anyone. Not in the way of a lover, but...in the way of perhaps a brother, or maybe a dear, close friend.

He watched her smile falter as she touched her Patrician, and watched the blind man take her hand and kiss the fingers gently. Vimes reflected that it was possible the lady D'Angelo knew of Vetinari's blindness, based on this interaction.

"The other lords inform me that you are as beautiful as always, Elizabeth," Vetinari murmured, only just loud enough to be heard. She smiled, and one hand reached out for his face, hesitating before he nodded once, then touching his cheek.

"Yes, well. Unlike some I didn't actively seek out the most dangerous job in Ankh-Morpork, you stupid, foolish, bastard," she murmured, but Vimes could tell that the fire Vetinari seemed to have been expecting was not there. He knew this by the sudden look of worry that flitted over the features. He was glad to be ignored. He supposed Vetinari just didn't want to stress either person by sending one of them away.

"Vetinari, I-" she began, but Vimes watched as the woman he had, in passing, thought of as a mountain of cold steel melted. Her head fell to Vetinari's shoulder, and she wept.

Vimes would ask about the history later. As it was, he watched. It was intriguing to see Vetinari care so much about a woman, and to see a woman who cared so obviously deeply for Vetinari.

Slowly she subsided, but Vimes could see she was clutching at Vetinari, knowing that he would slip away soon.

"Elizabeth, I'm not yet dead," Vetinari said softly, releasing her as she pulled back, wiping her green eyes. Vimes could see more tears spilling over, but let his master finish.

"Yes, well...I'm leaving the city. I have a...a job out in Quirm to attend to, special-order by Downey. I...leave tonight. He told me this morning, when I walked into the room, and...Vetinari, you stupid bastard!" she hissed, her hands forming fists. Vetinari sighed, and touched her cheek.

"Elizabeth, I thought you didn't need me anymore? Our last conversation was rather heated," he murmured, twitching and flinching as another spasm took him briefly. Vimes had never seen either look so tender, but the look on the woman's face made him want to murder Vetinari's assassin even more. With his bare hands. She looked so hurt and lost.

"Dammit! I was mad, Vetinari! I...I didn't mean what I said, and you knew it! Not a word I got from you, not for three years! And now, suddenly...you've gone and gotten yourself killed...dammit, I've always loved you, you _know_ that! Damn you, Vetinari! I nearly died for you forty or more times, and yet I was just...just your friend..." she hissed, and she turned away and broke down into tears again.

"Sir Samuel...when it is eventually discovered who hired the assassin to kill me...do me a favor and ask the Guild to assassinate them for me, would you?"

Vimes heard the cold fury in Vetinari's words, saw the hurt look he gave the distraught lady, and suddenly felt he understood. This woman had shared intimate things with his master, including situations where one of them had been near death. And she had grown to love him nearly sixty years ago, had never married because of that impossible love. And Vetinari understood her anger, her sorrow. And the fact he had hurt her so deeply hurt him.

"Yes sir."

She looked back over at Vimes, and a soft smile graced her lips.

"H-how's Sybil, Sir Samuel? N-not taking th-this well, is she?" she asked, obviously trying to recover.

Vimes sighed. "No, she's not. I'm sure she'd like someone to talk to," he suggested, offering her a way out. This was obviously hurting her, and she gave him a grateful look before nodding. And then she turned to Vetinari, a hand running down his face. And Vimes saw regret in the blue eyes, saw them follow where the mind behind them knew she was. He watched her lean down and kiss Vetinari, long and slow and full of desperate, long-denied passion. And Vetinari didn't move away, just sat there, and Vimes had never seen regret expressed so well without really showing it.

"I know it would never have worked...but I never stopped loving you. I'll miss you, you right arrogant bastard. I'm coming back for the funeral, and then I'm leaving this city for good. You're the only I ever came back all those years ago in the first place," she murmured, as soon she she had pulled back. "I'll miss you, Havelock...I really will. It's won't be the Disk without you...I...I might come back, maybe, before I leave for Quirm..." she murmured, squeezing his hand before she stood and retreated from the room, looking dignified, but broken.

There was silence for awhile as Vimes watched the regret and sorrow in his master's eyes. Then he spoke, softly.

"She really loves you, Havelock," he said softly, and caught the weak, fleeting smile before Vetinari began to cough heavily, deep and wet coughs that made Vimes grimace.

"She's loved me for nearly sixty years...but I can't love her the way she wants me to, she was always more like a sister. Like family."

Vimes nodded, and looked at the door.

"Is she going to be alright?" he asked softly, and saw more guilt flood his master's face.

"I don't know, Sam. I just don't know," the Patrician murmured, looking more sad than Vimes had ever seen him.

"I'm sure Sybil will cheer her up a bit, before she has to go," Vimes added, and saw the look leave Vetinari's face.

"Yes...she is good at that, isn't she?"

Vimes nodded, then confirmed it quietly.

Still, the rest of the day, Vetinari seemed to be brooding, and despite four more terrible spasms, he barely spoke a word the rest of the day, except when Elizabeth came back briefly to say her final goodbyes. She kissed him, and kissed Vimes on each cheek before she whispered another curse at Vetinari and left, looking ready to break down again.

The night passed unrestfully for both men, who seemed to be thinking the same thing on the rare occasions one mentioned what they were thinking.

* * *

**AN: ****I'm sorry this came out strangely. If you want to know a bit more about Elizabeth, check out the story Young Vetinari. As it is, I would like to stress that she is not his lover or anything like that. Just a sort of adopted sister or something. Anyway, the reason Vetinari is so open is because he is dying, and these two are his most trusted friends. Alright, now that I have tried to head off any flames...**

**I'm SO sorry this took so long! Home life has been disastrous on my muse, so I am kinda trying to update and write as I can. School is also not helping. Please forgive me! I hope this makes up for some of it. Again, sorry for the slip of Vetinari's character, but he is dying...I think i get leeway here. *sigh* Read and review please? It lets me know what I'm doing wrong...and besides, compliments make everyone's day, and make my muse work better.  
**


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